


So Here's the Bright End of Nowhere

by sullymygoodname



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Future, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-03
Updated: 2012-04-03
Packaged: 2017-11-03 00:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/375023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sullymygoodname/pseuds/sullymygoodname
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Looking back it seemed so simple, but having done it I couldn't say.</i> Dean is happy, Cas is hungover, Sam reflects. And there are pancakes. (This is either AU post-s6 or future!fic, depending on what happens in the rest of season 7.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Here's the Bright End of Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to blue_fjords for the beta. [Originally posted on October 5th, 2011 at Dreamwidth.](http://sullymygoodname.dreamwidth.org/2211.html)
> 
> The story you are about to read is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the creator's imagination or are used fictitiously. This story does not reflect the views or opinions of any actual person portrayed herein.  
> ...Anyway, IT'S JUST ~~CLAY~~ ...er, FICTION!

* * *

"Dude, finally. I already ordered," Sam says when Dean slides into the booth across from him. Cas moves a bit slower, slumping low beside Dean and laying his head down on the table with a soft groan.

"Had to drag Merry Sunshine here out of bed." Dean's hand goes right to the back of Cas's neck, massaging slow circles with his fingers. Sam stares at that hand for a moment before he snaps himself out of it.

It's still a little weird, this whole 'Dean and Cas' thing. It's _good_ — Sam would have to be fucking blind not to see how good it's been for Dean — but still… weird. He's not yet used to seeing Cas in jeans and t-shirts and usually wrapped in one of Dean's old flannels. Or watching him learn how to tie his shoes, and brush his teeth, and… well everything else that people have to do. Dean takes care of most of it.

Like Cas puking up his guts in the bathroom at three in the morning after a, probably unwise, night in a bar. Yeah, Sam was happy to let Dean deal with that.

Cas does look pretty terrible this morning, though, and the usual circles under Dean's eyes are a little darker, too. But he looks more relaxed than Sam's seen him in… God, years. They've been fighting for their lives nonstop for _years_. It hasn't fully sunk in for Sam yet that they can all breathe now. The world isn't perfect, sure; there are still ghosts and ghouls and other things that go bump in the night. But it ain't going to hell anymore. Or purgatory. Or heaven, Sam supposes, either. It's just… the same old world.

The waitress appears with Sam's omelette, setting it down in front of him, and turns to the newcomers, pulling pencil and pad out of her apron. "What can I get you?" Her name is Alice and she's sixty if she's a day, bleach-blonde hair piled high on her head, bright red lipstick smudging her teeth with every snap and pop of gum. Sam likes her. "Looks like someone's feeling rough this morning," she says, lowering her voice and nodding toward Cas.

"Coffee. Strong," Dean says, raising his hand from Cas's neck and pointing down at him. "And a short stack. Blueberry syrup, if you got it."

"I do not want pancakes." Cas's voice is muffled by the table, but his words are clipped and his tone is clear. 

(Sam's noticed that Cas does that, particularly when he's feeling, well, a little too human. He reins himself in, coiled tight, and holds himself as rigid as though still an all-powerful force barely contained within this tiny sack of blood and bones. Sam's pretty sure he doesn't do that on purpose, or isn't really aware he's doing it. None of them like to be reminded of Castiel's brief but devastating power trip. Especially Cas.)

"Baby, you gotta eat somethin'. It'll make you feel better, I promise," Dean says, fingers ruffling through the longer hair curling at the back of Cas's head, then turns his focus back to the waitress. "I'll have the special, extra bacon on the si—ah!" Dean flinches, rolls his eyes. "Hold the bacon."

Sam realizes that Cas has just pinched his brother under the table, and he tries not to laugh. Sometimes Cas is just as human as the rest of them.

"Oh, and a glass of OJ," Dean adds quickly.

"Will that be all?" Alice finishes jotting it all down, glancing from Dean to Sam and back.

"Yes," Cas says gruffly, still not looking up.

Dean points down at him again, mouthing 'Pancakes.'

"Comin' right up," Alice says with a wink and walks back to the counter to put in the order.

"Did you guys even sleep?" Sam asks, adding a little ketchup to his omelette. When he looks up, Dean is smirking at him. "Dude, gross. I could hear Cas vomiting all the way from my room." He's satisfied to see Dean's face morph into a grimace at that.

"Yeah, that was some epic upchucking," Dean remarks with a little laugh. He leans back in his seat, stretching his arm the length of the booth. "Almost worse than Sammy's first bender. What were you, sixteen?"

"Stop talking. Both of you." Cas reaches behind himself and grasps Dean's hand, bringing it back to his neck. "You can keep doing that." Dean's fingers continue their slow massaging.

When Sam snorts down into his plate, Dean scowls at him. "What?"

Sam shakes his head. "Nothing." He stares resolutely at his food, willing his lips into a firm straight line.

Alice returns with two coffee mugs and a half-full pot.

"Sit up." Dean squeezes Cas's neck, hand dropping down to rub his back. Cas leans back into Dean's arm, eyes closed, so that Alice can set the mugs onto the table and fill them up. Dean thanks her, and she smiles brightly back at him.

"Your order'll be up in just a minute or two." 

Clumsily, Cas wraps both hands around his mug and brings it up to his mouth for a tiny sip, makes a face swallowing. "I still do not… _appreciate_ the taste of coffee." He pushes it away and lays his head back down on the table.

"Well, keep this up, and you'll just have to get used to it," Dean says (a little harshly if you ask Sam). He sits back, sipping from his own cup.

Cas turns his head to the side, cheek flat on the table, to glare one-eyed up at Dean. "You are enjoying this far too much."

"Yeah, Dean," Sam points his fork at him, "you're acting like you've never been hungover."

"Hey, I know my limits." He looks away from them and out the window, coffee cup clutched in front of his face.

Sam glances across and catches Cas's eye. Along with Castiel's foray into godhood, Dean's drinking is another thing they generally don't like to discuss. He's gotten better, Sam knows, made serious strides at keeping it under control. He hasn't quit, and probably never will, but he's cut back to, like, pre-Hell levels. A beer (or two) with dinner, a finger (or two) of whiskey after a bad night (and that's not every night anymore). It's good enough for them.

Cas sits up and leans over to lay his head on Dean's shoulder. Dean stays exactly where he is, perfectly still, but for his eyes, softening and gazing down at the top of Cas's head.

"Here," Dean says, pushing the sugar and creamer packets across the table. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me when I tell you to take it easy and slow down."

"Hm." Cas dumps one packet of creamer into his coffee, and then Sam watches as he empties at least half the sugar dispenser. "Strange, considering that you are usually telling me to go faster, harder." Dean sputters into his own cup, nearly dropping it onto the table.

"Aaaand I'm done," Sam says, pushing his plate away. "Thanks for that." He unfolds himself from his side of the booth just as Alice is making her way over, plates balanced precariously on her arm. "I'm gonna go walk around a bit. I saw a newsstand just down the block; I'll grab a paper, see if there's anything interesting nearby." His brother nods, and Sam quickly sidesteps to let Alice pass. He notes Cas doesn't look upset, or even surprised, when she sets the heaping plate of pancakes down in front of him.

The bell above the door jingles tunelessly as Sam steps outside. The air is cool, but the sun is bright and hot. People stroll past him on the sidewalk, or jog across the street. This little town, the name of which escapes Sam at the moment, is just a pit-stop between one hunt and the next. A blip. A place, and a day, that they probably won't even remember in a few weeks, months, or years.

But it still exists because of them. _Here’s the result of all our days._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is basically just happy fluff; I needed to cleanse my writing palate after all the angst. I was going for simple, short, and sweet, with the starting premise of "hungover human Cas" and "Dean being affectionate in public". I'm not sure where the Sam POV came from, but I like it. Italicized sentences are lines from Matt Good's "Bright End of Nowhere", as is the title, obviously.


End file.
